


Stolen kiss

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Boys Kissing, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a stolen kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime during the making of the “Ich Will” video.

Paul wandered through the corridors of the Staatsratsgebäude building, which had once been the former state council building of the GDR. He felt more than a little bored; Till, and the video crew, were recording a scene elsewhere in the building. He felt a little surplus to requirements and he needed something to do, or someone to talk to, to take the edge of his own boredom away for a little while. He turned a corner, and almost walked, with full force, into Richard.

Richard was leaning against the wall, eyes half closed, smoke curling from his lips as he dragged on another cigarette, undoubtedly his umpteenth of the day. Paul had enough time to register the fact that Richard had loosened his bow tie, so that the dangling ends of it trailed against the broadness of his chest, looking like strangely shaped darts against the starkness of his white shirt. Richard jerked away in surprise at Paul‘s sudden appearance, and almost dropped the half smoked cigarette from his mouth to the floor, eyes startled wide as he turned to a suddenly grinning Paul.

“Gotcha,” Paul said, by way of greeting.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Richard protested from around his cigarette and it bobbed between his lips as he spoke. 

“Lucky for you that you weren’t,” Paul observed, as he raised both eyebrows at the other man.

Richard managed a smile around his cigarette, before he inhaled, held the smoke in for a few seconds before he sent it spiraling up towards the ceiling.

“Should you even be smoking in here?” Paul asked, even though he personally didn’t care either way.

“Who cares? There’s no one here, except the two of us,” Richard snorted. “I won’t tell, if you won’t.”

Paul snorted himself, before he settled beside Richard against the wall, and they remained in silence. Richard worked his way slowly through the remainder of his cigarette whilst Paul scratched at his face, tried not to dislodge the latex that had been applied around his eye earlier in the day. Whilst the make-up department had done a good job of disfiguring his face, he didn’t think that anyone had counted on the fact that the damn thing would itch quite so much. The tip of his finger eased around the edge of the latex and tried to ease the itch, yet it was no good; the patch that caused him most grief was embedded deep beneath the layer of make-up and rubber.

“Leave it alone, Paul,” Richard said, with a snort of amusement at the other man, as he nudged at Paul’s shoulder with his own.

“It itches,” Paul said, before he frowned at the note of complaint in his tone.

He hadn’t meant to sound quite so bitchy, yet the perpetual itch made him feel that way, all the same. 

“Well, stop it, then,” Richard said, as he shook his head at Paul. “You know if you dislodge it, they’ll only re-apply it and make it worse. They’ll probably put on even more glue just to piss you off.” 

“Jesus,” Paul said, with a sudden small laugh. “At least you get to wear a glove. That doesn't itch, I’ll bet.”

“Nah,” Richard said, as he examined the black plastic that covered his left hand. “My palm’s sweating, though.” 

Paul huffed then; he would have preferred a sweaty palm to an itchy cheek any day. He didn’t speak aloud, however, merely stood there in silence and listened to the corridors and the far-off sounds of a crowd cheering outside, coupled with myriad shouts of the crew echoing through the building. He wondered where the others were, whether Olli would be outside yet, target painted in black upon his chest as he exposed it proudly to the encircling helicopters. 

“What are you thinking about?” Richard asked, as he stubbed out his cigarette upon the wall and looked for a place to throw it away. 

When there proved to be no bins nearby, he strode to the nearest open window and flung it out. 

“I was thinking of Olli,” Paul replied, when Richard returned.

“Oh,” Richard said, and he almost sounded disappointed. 

“I was just wondering whether he was doing his scene yet,” Paul explained further, with a smile at the other man.

“Ah,” Richard said, and his tone sounded relieved. “Probably. I thought I heard a helicopter just now, at any rate.” 

“Why?” Paul asked. “I meant why were you asking, not why was there a helicopter, before you say anything.”

Richard grinned suddenly and Paul guessed from that grin that Richard had been thinking exactly that. 

“No reason,” Richard said, even as he partially turned away.

He fell silent and rested his head back against the wall, before he tilted his head back, gaze resting steadfastly upon the ceiling. Paul watched the other man, for a while, eyes travelling over Richard’s profile, and the way that the other man’s muscles worked slightly in his jaw. He allowed his gaze to dip lower, to appreciate the way that that day’s suit hugged Richard’s body; Richard really did look good in a suit and he’d be stupid if he didn’t think that Richard looked sexier than ever, that day. Richard swallowed slowly, yet took no notice of Paul’s continued, appreciative scrutiny; Paul himself didn’t know what he thought of that, and whether he should even be offended by the other man‘s seeming obliviousness.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” he suddenly asked, mind still resting upon Richard‘s earlier reaction to the mention of Olli‘s name.

“Of who? Olli?” Richard asked, with a sudden rough snort, yet still he did not turn to face Paul.

Paul sighed; he knew that Richard’s sudden refusal to meet his gaze proved that he’d the nail upon the head.

“Reesh,’” Paul said, to gain Richard’s attention.

“What?” Richard asked, yet still he did not look at Paul.

“Reesh, look at me a minute, would you?” Paul asked, and winced at the irritation in his own voice. 

Richard sighed, broad chest rising and falling with that one brief exhalation, yet still he cast his gaze down from the ceiling onto Paul's face. Paul tried to smile at him, to convey with just that one expression that Richard didn’t need to worry. He knew that it was because Richard loved him that he sometimes succumbed to jealousy, despite the fact that Paul had never once cheated on him. They both knew that Paul didn’t have it in him to do such a thing. 

Richard smiled back at him and the frown softened out a little on his face. He lifted one hand, and rested it on Paul’s cheek, bare palm warm against Paul’s skin. Paul leant into his touch and didn’t take his gaze from Richard’s; he smiled again, and waited for Richard to lean in. Richard’s mouth was warm against his own, lips soft and each kiss was a comfort, each gesture well practiced, and tender. 

Paul reached up and snarled his hand around the dangling ends of Richard's bow tie, ran the silky material over and over his palm; he curled the silken material around his fingers as he pulled the other man in closer. Richard made an appreciative noise and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding beside Paul’s own slowly. Paul lost himself to that kiss, felt the first stirrings of arousal coil tightly in his gut, yet Richard pulled away, to rest his forehead against Paul’s own. 

He looked as though he was about to speak, eyes drifting lazily half-closed, yet before one word could ease past the parted line of his lips, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Flake’s came from behind them. 

“Ah, there you are. You know Jörn’s looking for you two,” Flake said, as he strolled up to them, hands shoved deep within the pockets of his trousers.

Paul groaned, but did not let go of Richard’s tie immediately. Richard made no move to step away from Paul either, hands resting firmly against the other man’s ass.

“We’re coming,” Richard said, irritation in his voice.

“I can see that,” Flake said, with an amused grin at them both. “Enough time for that later, though. Back on set with the both of you.” 

Paul grumbled and gave him the middle finger, which made Flake laugh. He gave Richard one last hasty kiss, before he murmured a quick - later - against Richard’s lips. Richard nodded, before the trio made their way back down the corridor and onwards to where their director waited for them.


End file.
